Page 33 of Taking Jenny (Planet Orhon #4)

Jenny

W hen Discord said she was bringing me a weapon, I imagined steel, something sharp, something that might give me a fighting chance in a den of vipers. I didn’t not expect a dress.

“That?” I stared in disbelief at the absurdly dramatic bundle of silk and tulle in her hands like it had personally insulted me. “Are you serious?”

Discord nodded, completely unfazed. “Come now. You can do it.”

“I really don’t think I can,” I whispered, but I wasn’t just talking about the dress. The upcoming night had my stomach in knots.

“You’ve trained for nine days,” she said. “You can do this.”

I jammed my hands on my hips, knowing I was being stubborn. “You said you were bringing me a weapon .”

“This is a weapon,” she insisted, holding the dress higher. “Wear it, and you will slay the court.”

I stared at the abundance of deep purple folds, along with the overwhelming amount of fabric. “It’s so…poufy. And dark.”

“You’ll look like a princess,” she insisted. “Like in your Earth movies.”

“I’ll look like a goth princess,” I muttered. “And those aren’t exactly the kind of movies I watch.”

She huffed in exasperation and thrust the dress at me. “Just put it on.”

Disgruntled, I reluctantly took the dress and shut myself in the bathroom for privacy. It took me forever to struggle into the dress, and even longer to look at myself in the mirror.

When I did, I had to blink twice. Because somehow, under all the dramatic tulle and deep purple silk, I looked…regal. Intimidating. Like I’d stepped out of a fantasy where the princess saves herself, and possibly shanks a duke on the way out.

It was unsettling, because I didn’t feel powerful. I felt like a scared girl in over her head, dressed up in elegance and lies. But the truth of the matter was, comfort had no place in what tonight demanded of me. Not when my survival depended on how well I played my part.

It had been two days since the balcony incident.

Two days of avoiding both Mal and Tiger like they were live wires—burning, humming, too dangerous to touch.

They were two sources of massive confusion, and I did not need that, so I’d buried myself in training and dancing instead, and Discord took that as devotion.

She’d since adopted me as her personal project and had taken me under her wing in preparation of the Illiapol Ball.

The ballgown was deep purple with a black lace overlay.

The neckline dipped low, skirting the edge of indecency without crossing it.

The fitted sleeveless bodice clung to me, while a lace panel exposed most of my back.

I’d never worn anything this dramatic. My sisters had wanted big weddings, with ornate dresses so they could feel like princesses at the start of their new lives.

I had to wear one at the end of mine.

Shaking off the morbid thought, I called out, “Discord, a little help?”

She entered and stopped in her tracks. “You’re beautiful.”

“I can’t reach the zipper.”

She stepped forward to close it, then caught my gaze in the mirror. “We’ll braid your hair up. We want your back bare.”

“Why?”

“I want every person at the ball to lust after you,” she said, a wicked smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I want them to ache with regret. Let them loathe themselves for allowing Illiapol to continue. Let them hate you because you make them want you while knowing they can’t have you.”

Well, okay then…

“Sit,” she said, pointing toward the vanity area. “I’ll braid your hair.”

I obeyed, trying not to crinkle the massive layers of tulle as I lowered into the chair. “What are you wearing tonight?”

“Something that will piss off the court.”

I laughed—an actual laugh, not the nervous kind I’d been living on the past few days. “Of course you are. Why antagonize them?”

Her fingers were already in my hair, separating strands with brisk, confident precision. “Because I can.” Her voice was defiant, but I didn’t miss the undertone beneath it. Anger, old and buried deep.

She didn’t elaborate, and for a while the only sound was the whisper of my hair sliding through her fingers. Then her gaze met mine in the vanity mirror, eyes steady and too perceptive.

“Tiger and Mal will be at the ball tonight, as well,” she said. “You’d do well to manage your emotions when it comes to them.”

“I’ve been doing that for two days,” I said in a wry tone. “I’ll be fine.”

She arched a single, knowing brow. “You’ve been avoiding them. That is not the same thing.”

“I know. I just…” My voice caught. “I don’t understand either of them.” Hell, I didn’t understand myself these days.

“Because Tiger was upset that you tried to protect him?” she asked, her voice softer now. “Or because Mal left you trembling on the balcony?”

My cheeks burned that she even knew what had happened between Mal and myself. “God. You know?”

“I see and know everything,” she said simply, but her hands gentled in my hair. “Tiger’s pride was wounded. He’s stronger than you gave him credit for, and that’s why he was mad that you tried to defend him. He thought that you believed he was weak.”

I absently rubbed a piece of tulle between my fingers. “That’s not why I was mad. I was upset because Mal just handed him over to the palace like it didn’t matter.”

“Because he had no choice.”

In my heart, I knew that. “I think it was easier for me to push Illiapol out of my mind if we all stayed away from the palace. So when Justice forced him to go and he took Tiger, it was an ugly reminder that none of us have a choice in any of this.”

Finished with my hair, Discord turned me gently to face her, her hands resting on my shoulders. For once her expression wasn’t guarded or fierce. It was devastatingly honest.

“Jenny, you’re not powerless. You’re not just some girl waiting to be hunted.

Every word, every glance tonight will be a strike against the court.

Every flirtation, a blade. You can’t win this fight with fists or weapons.

You have to win it with perception. Make them want you.

Make them fear you. Make them unsure of what you’ll do next. ”

She was right. This was a war of a different kind and I needed to walk in tonight with purpose, and confidence. “Thank you, Discord.”

Her face softened, just for a second. “Let’s finish getting you ready.”

She twisted and roped the braids she’d made into a sleek bun at my nape, then fastened an amethyst pendant around my neck. The stone was deep purple, thumb-sized, and shaped like a teardrop.

I tentatively touched the jewel. “I didn’t know amethysts came this big.”

She smiled. “This one is from my private collection.”

I was impressed, and honored she’d allowed me to wear it. “It’s beautiful.”

She hummed in agreement, then transformed my face with her expertise, giving me silver smokey eyes and deep wine-red lips. She even made my cheeks glow. In the mirror, I barely recognized myself.

A short while later, we gathered in the foyer to leave.

Longshot and Surge were already there, looking shockingly dashing in plum colored suits that echoed the hue of my gown, and accented with pearl-gray shirts beneath.

They looked like the kind of men who could charm a ballroom into silence.

Longshot caught me staring and winked, while Surge gave a low whistle when he saw me.

Mal appeared next, strolling in dramatically.

His suit matched the others in color, but that’s where the similarities ended.

His was sleeker, with sharp lapels and a midnight shirt that emphasized the stark planes of his body.

He wasn’t just dressed, he was armed in silk and swagger.

My breath caught for a split second before I looked away, cheeks burning. He saw my reaction. Of course he did.

Then Discord swept in next like a thunderstorm in heels. Her dark orchid gown was elegant, yes, but it was also just this side of scandalous. Sleeveless, with a plunging neckline and thigh-high slit that showed off legs I didn’t know she had. She wore it like armor and a weapon all in one.

I grinned. “Why do I have to look like a fancy princess and you get to show up like a hot villainess?”

“I don’t understand that insult, and I’m choosing not to.”

“It’s a compliment,” I assured her. “You look incredible.”

For once, she didn’t deflect. She gave me a rare, pleased smile, but her gaze drifted behind me and I turned to see Tiger strolling into the foyer.

My mouth went dry because he looked utterly gorgeous.

His suit was deep aubergine, tailored to perfection and hugging every inch of his powerful frame.

The shirt beneath was black lace, sheer enough to tease the contours of his chest. My hands curled at my sides, fingers twitching with the indecent desire to shred that shirt and touch every inch beneath it.

He glanced in my direction, his dark gaze dragging over my gown, taking in the bodice, the exposed back, the shimmer of the pendant at my throat. His eyes lingered on my painted lips, my bare shoulders. Hunger flickered in his expression, hot and unhidden.

“You look…” I started, but the words died on my tongue. My mouth went completely useless. I was pretty sure I’d just forgotten my own name.

Tiger’s voice dropped into a low, deep rasp. “You, too.”

It was just two words, but my knees damn near buckled.

We stared at each other for a long moment, time slowing, tension thickening, the air between us charged and waiting to combust. I could feel Mal’s gaze on my back, heavy and watching.

Sure enough, when I glanced sideways, I caught a glimpse of Mal, arms crossed, eyes dark with something sharp and unreadable. His jaw flexed like he was biting down words he didn’t trust himself to say. Possessiveness? Jealousy? Regret?